


Finders, Keepers

by fluffywonder



Category: CA:TWS - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Prelude to Civil War, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Natasha Friendly, Self-indulgent fluff, not SHIELD friendly, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffywonder/pseuds/fluffywonder
Summary: Clint/Tony prelationship, friendshipAU during and after the end of CA: TWS.Maria Hill isn’t complicit in the Helicarrier shutdown in this one, and Clint’s obviously not married.





	Finders, Keepers

Clint is in Croatia when he finds out. His heart is in his throat the whole time he is wrapping up his mission; his mind flickers to Natasha, and, to a much lesser extent, Cap, so often that he nearly gets blown up on three separate occasions before he manages to make his escape to the nearest airstrip. He thinks the mission wouldn’t even matter, except there’d be one less bad guy running around in the world, and at this point, that’s probably a _really_ good thing, even more so than it usually would be. There is no one to call, no evac scheduled, and all the contingency plans have gone up in smoke, so he guesses he’s flying commercial, which is really the last thing he needs after the long month he’s had.

(It’s a miracle he heard the news about SHIELD’s fall at all, given that he’d been in semi-deep cover in the middle of hostile territory. But apparently bad guy bases get the news too, so...)

Later, he thinks back on that moment guiltily, cursing at having to fly economy, when other agents hadn’t made it out at all, and the ones who escaped might not have had anything to go back to, because they’d given SHIELD _everything_ — his traitorous mind reminds him of Coulson, and how Natasha’s number is unreachable. He’d think history was repeating itself, but he’d caught the Senate hearing. He was left speechless in utter disbelief at how _arrogant_ her parting remarks had been, the data dump all over the internet had been bad enough but he assumed that had been unavoidable, but this... he couldn’t believe that this was the woman he’d staked life, limb, and career for.

(He didn’t try to call again after that.)

It turned out that the data dump hadn’t been so unavoidable after all. It was an uncomfortably painful truth he’d been made aware of when he’d almost literally run into Maria Hill in the lobby of Stark’s tower. SHIELD had had to go, yes, as Hill explained, because there was no way to tell who was HYDRA and who wasn’t, at that point, but agents _—good agents—_ shouldn’t have been burned in the process. They should have found another way — _any_ other way to avoid good, decent agents and their families being burned the way they had been. Maria had looked pointedly at him then, sympathetic, but Clint shook his head. He still had the Avengers, whetever was left of them, he still had ties to Tony, if he wanted them, and he still had his literal life, so he could make a clean break and make a new one for himself if he really wanted to. He said as much to Hill, whose expression turned a shade warmer at his apparent perspective. She continued her story, and it was truly horrifying knowing that Stark Industries, and the man himself, could have mitigated, maybe even prevented, so much more of the damage if either Rogers or Natasha had just _called_ Stark earlier, before the Helicarriers had blown to bits. Maria had flushed guiltily while telling him that, acknowledging that she or Fury could have called Stark too, and they hadn’t thought of it then either. Stark hadn’t been aware at the time, had his company and his own things to focus on, so he hadn’t caught the mess in DC until it was already done and over with, but the genius billionaire had immediately done whatever he could to help. SI had reached out and given jobs to all the former SHIELD employees they could find and verify as clean of HYDRA’s influence, Pepper Potts was actively taking up rebuilding and reparations efforts for agents who had lost homes and/or families to vengeful HYDRA agents or other opposition, while Iron Man had personally gone on as many extraction and rescue missions as possible for agents stranded in hostile zones, like Clint had been. Clint had no doubt Tony would feel he still hadn’t done enough. He thanked Maria for the update and proceeded upstairs, telling her that he’d do whatever he could to help as well. He thought he saw her smile a true, genuine smile in his direction —a thanks for being a decent person, maybe— but he didn’t comment on it as he left.

(What was there left to say?)

Upstairs (he’s surprised JARVIS let him up without comment, and he’s not sure if that bodes well or not) he finds Tony in the penthouse common room, hunched over a tablet and looking more frazzled and stressed than Clint had seen him in a while.

(Not that they’d seen much of each other even when they’d lived together — Clint now wondered if Natasha’d had anything to do with that.)

Stark looks up sharply when he hears the bank of elevators ding — clearly, he’s not expecting Potts or anyone else anytime soon. His face morphs into shock and surprise when he sees Clint, and there is an obvious hint of something pleased and relieved flickering in his eyes too.

“Katniss!”

“Tony,” he murmurs back, taking in the black bags underneath eyes that indicate they haven’t been rested in weeks, and the new stress lines on Stark’s forehead and around his mouth.

“You heard?” There’s something wary in Tony’s tone now, and he’s watching Clint closely, resembling _Hawkeye_ more than the archer does in that moment.

Clint grimaces in response. Tony’s obviously questioning whether Clint condones the way DC and the Senate hearing were handled, which makes him wonder just how many agents will tar him with the same brush as Natasha, because they used to be partners and friends and, in Tony’s words, _spysassin-twins._

(Had they really been friends, if Natasha could burn him so easily without a second thought?)

“I heard,” he says at last. “I talked to Hill downstairs. I was actually— “ He takes a deep breath and scrubs a hand over his face before continuing. “I’m lucky I made it back,” he mutters, dropping heavily into the couch beside Tony.

Tony’s gaze sharpens as he angles his body to face Clint on the couch. “I’m sorry,” Tony offers at last, after a long, painful stretch of silence. “I didn’t know you were out on a— I should have _called_ you, made sure you were okay, I didn’t think— “  
Tony’s voice is all twisted in on itself, ugly and terrible and self-recriminating and Clint has to swallow heavily before he leans forward and grips Tony’s forearm tight, cutting the other man off in the middle of his increasingly self-flagellating rambles. 

“Tony. Stop.” He makes sure his voice stays patient and kind, but firm. Amazingly, Tony sits wide-eyed but actually silent, a rare occasion he’s actually doing what he’s told. “You made sure _they_ were okay, Tony. You tried to save everyone, and you did a fair good job of it, too. I know you didn’t get to everyone in time —I’m not sure anyone could have— but you, you did more than anyone else. You looked out for them, the agents, the scientists, the support staff, when no one else did.” He swallows again. _“No one else did._ One of their own betrayed them, hurt them, and you looked out for them, are still looking out for them, even though you’ve never had any real or true obligation to SHIELD.”

Tony’s having trouble forming a response, but he does manage, in a low mutter, “I’m —I was— a consultant. SHIELD consultant.”

Clint shakes his head. “In name, maybe. As a technicality. The minute the Chitauri struck, you became an Avenger. You know it, and the world knows it. And you were Iron Man long before that, and you’ve been responsible for Stark Industries practically forever, in some capacity or another, even after Pepper became CEO. SHIELD was just...” He shrugs helplessly. “It was a power play, to keep you close. Fury likes those, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Tony snorts. “Dead but not dead. That was a mindfuck.”

“Yeah, prime example of that whole manipulative thing.” Now that the rose-colored blinders are off, Clint feels thoroughly disillusioned with SHIELD. They’d done some good work, and SHIELD had saved him from his past in more ways than one, but it felt like the agency had put itself on such a pedestal, the ones in charge had practically issued gold-plated invitations to enemies to come knock them down.

( _Arrogant,_ his mind whispers yet again.)

Tony sighs. “So...” he trails off uncertainly.

Clint just shrugs. “I’m here to help, Tony. With the clean up, with whatever I can. Natasha... I thought she could be better, when I made a different call. Guess she’s not the person I thought she was, or maybe she’s exactly what her file said—“ He’s cut off by the flat, angry stare Tony’s suddenly sporting.

“Good old Natalie Rushman, huh? Spouting off about everyone else’s arrogance while hers is the biggest ego in the room.”

Tony’s tone is bitter, laced with an old hurt, and threads of unease curl around Clint’s heart. He wants to defend her, defend his decision, but— “The personality profile?”

Tony jerks his head in an approximation of a nod.

Clint sighs. “Alright, well, it was bullshit, obviously. You’re not wrong. Fury played games with you, Natasha didn’t care to look deep enough. It’s gotta hurt, yeah, but Tony, SHIELD fell victim to its own mind games, and Natasha’s arrogance is now obvious for everyone to see, while you’re still here, with good agents and technicians the world over calling you their savior. You’re the one that won, in the end.”

“It wasn’t a game!” Tony spits, eyes seemingly trying to burn a path through Clint.

“No, it wasn’t —isn’t— a game,” Clint agrees calmly. “Still. The personality profile didn’t hurt you, in the end. Not long-term, anyway, seeing as it no longer matters what SHIELD thinks, about you or anyone else. And for what it’s worth, if anything, I never judged you by it, not even for a second.”

At that, Tony grows very, very quiet, and when he speaks, long minutes afterwards, his voice is barely audible. “...Didn’t it?”

Clint’s heart sinks. What is he missing here? What piece of the puzzle is he not seeing?

Tony sighs. “How much do you know about SHIELD’s history?”

Clint shakes his head. “I— “ he begins, but Tony is already pressing forward. Alright then. Rhetorical question.

“SHIELD is an organization that was started by two people shortly after the end of World War II. Its aim was to prevent a horrific, widespread war like that ever happening again, especially seeing as the US army was fighting on two fronts— the German Nazis and HYDRA. Of course, we now know how futile that goal was, but eh. The sentiment —to protect— stands.”

Tony taps his tablet in a quick, anxious staccato. “Back then, when it was first formed, it wasn’t known as SHIELD. It was known as the SSR, and the two people who started it, birthed it, were Howard Stark and Peggy Carter.”

Clint’s heart sinks once more. No story that has Howard Stark in it can ever be a happy one.

Tony’s voice is still quiet as he continues. “I knew them as ‘Dad’ and ‘Aunt Peggy’ respectively, of course. So the SSR. Created shortly after the end of World War II. And shortly after one Steven Grant Rogers, codename Captain America, put a plane into the ice to save Manhattan.” Tony pauses briefly. “Captain America was Howard’s greatest creation. I mean, there’s a video of him saying that I’m his greatest creation, but the truth was, Howard Stark was a great man, but he wasn’t much of a father. Hell, I’m not even sure he can be counted a great man. If anything, I’ll admit he was a brilliant inventor, and a genius for his time, but— “ Tony looks frustrated as he cuts himself off.

Clint can sympathize. After all, he’s no stranger to a father who was drunk, bitter, abusive, or absent in some combination of all of the above. He stays quiet, however, figuring Tony would clam up if he said anything. He’d only heard Tony mention Howard twice while they all lived together as Avengers, and once was to viciously bite Cap’s head off for mentioning him first, so the sheer amount of trust Tony was showing him by discussing this was nothing short of miraculous.

Tony takes a breath. “Anyway. Howard was absent a lot, searching for Captain America. Missed a lot of birthdays, science fairs, awards ceremonies, graduations, whatever. When he was around, he wasn’t particularly pleasant, sinking a shitload of time and money into inventions that would eventually find the good Captain. He was so obsessed he even let Obie handle SI,” Tony mutters angrily.

For a minute, Clint is confused. Obie? Then it clicks, and Clint shudders minutely. Fuck, Coulson had once showed him the extremely skinny file on Stark, on Afghanistan, back when he and Phil might have been something more. Obadiah Stane, the man, the mentor, the father-figure who put Stark through hell, all because of sheer greed. God.

“So yeah. Dad died, of course, taking my mom with him. They said he was driving drunk.” Tony bites his lip, and the gesture makes Clint want to reach out and swipe away the bruises in an act of comfort. “Decades later, Cap was found and defrosted, and by that point, Aunt Peggy had alzheimer’s, and Fury was running the SSR, which, at some point before Fury’s takeover, had already come to be known as SHIELD.” Tony pauses again, looking off at the far side of the room, picking almost nervously at the threads of the cushion now in his hands.

“Anyway, _my point_ , with this whole longwinded history lesson, is that that personality profile? Said I wasn’t recommended for the organization that my dad and my aunt built from the ground up. Your friend Natasha -well, and Fury too- basically echoed my dear old dad from years past— that Captain fucking America was better than me, more recommended than me, more needed, more wanted than me. That opened very old wounds, and while I’m almost 100% sure she -they- didn’t do it to hurt me further with Howard’s mistakes, it still opened up a scab because neither she nor Fury saw past their own damn noses. Last I checked, writing a personality profile on someone suffering from heavy metal poisoning isn’t exactly kosher, and yet SHIELD used it to slap a shitty label on me. Because behavior under poisoning is an accurate judgement of character. The fact that I wasn’t recommended for the Avengers, a SHIELD initiative - it felt like a big, giant, final fuck you from beyond the grave. So tell me again how that personality evaluation didn’t hurt me in the long run, in the end?”

Tony’s eyes, blazing with a pain and anger borne of years of hurt, have turned to Clint again, but Clint’s own eyes are closed, because he can’t— he can’t— did Fury know, then, how badly he’d burned a bridge with Stark? Did Natasha? Clint remembers Stark being coolly indifferent and generally unhelpful to SHIELD after the personality profile, though he’d housed the Avengers as an independent entity and even treated Natasha with a polite coollness and professionalism. Then again, he’d treated them all with professionalism, but little warmth, save for Banner - his science-bro. But he had seemed warier, more detached, maybe even a touch colder, with Natasha.

Clint sighs. Although Natasha and Fury had certainly fallen on their own sword, Tony had gotten a pretty raw deal too, if emotional hurts rendered could be quantified. Clint opens his mouth, but before he can say anything even vaguely apologetic for being inadvertently insensitive earlier, Tony’s speaking again.

“You know, I grew up idolising Captain America. Kind of hard not to, when he was all that Howard spoke about. Had posters and plushies and everything. It wasn’t until I was a preteen that I wanted nothing to do with the Captain, when I realized I could never win the stupid _competition_ for my dad’s attention.” Tony leans back and stares at Clint, as if scrutinising his blue-grey eyes, searching for — something.

Clint just nods in understanding.

“Even then, I’m not sure I ever really hated Captain America, despite what I claimed over and over to everyone. I was jealous, and bitter, and felt all kinds of vindictive towards Cap, back then, before I knew him, but I don’t think hate belongs on that list. When I met Cap, I was... curious. Not sure what I expected. Our first words to each other were vicious as hell. Maybe true, on some levels, and probably not on others. _Big man in a suit of armor — take that off, what are you?”_ The laugh that escapes Tony is mocking, curling in on itself in a parody of anger, only managing harsh self-recrimination.

“I called him a lab rat. Told him everything special about him came out of a bottle.” Tony sighs, running slightly shaky fingers through his hair. “In the end, it was Loki’s scepter mostly influencing us” —he pauses to give Clint a sympathetic look in response to the wracking shudder that shook Clint’s frame when he heard the words _Loki’s scepter— “_ but even since, Cap’s been a little too free judging my motivations as selfish, or self-centered, or irresponsible, and I know he thinks I don’t play well with others. Which, to be fair, I don’t, not always, but I don’t need to hear his diatribes and snide remarks all throughout debriefings either. And I’m honestly not as bad as he makes me out to be, and I’m certainly not trying to _save people_ for fucking selfish reasons!” Tony unclenches his fists and takes a deep breath to stop his voice climbing even higher before he continues.

“She ruined it, you know? Natalie Rushman _—Natasha—_ whatever you want to call her, she ruined the chance for me to have any kind of legitimately positive relationship with Steve. I mean, I don’t even know if I could’ve let go of my anger and bitterness towards Cap, but I wanted to find out. And Cap... he trusted her and Fury’s assessment, because he didn’t know any better, and I’m everything the army wasn’t, and he looked at me and I’m familiar but I’m not Howard. But while all of that might have unsettled Cap, we could’ve figured it out, slowly, maybe, on our own terms. He could’ve found out about me from _me_ , while I could’ve learned about him from the man himself. Instead, he got slapped in the face with a list of all my negative qualities, Romanoff’s exaggerated observations of a time I was actively _dying_ and _purposely_ pushing people away to make it hurt less— “ Tony takes a breath. “And Cap... well, he _wouldn’t_ distrust Romanoff, or Fury, would he? He wouldn’t have any reason to. Fury was there when he first woke up. It makes sense he’d latch on. And he’s not innately inclined to distrust authority, and we’d already made bad impressions on each other.” He goes quiet. “That goddamn evaluation ruined a chance to build something with Cap, after the— New York, the Chitauri. I tried, a couple times, but... and I know I’m probably putting too much stock in the personality eval, because I could’ve tried harder with Cap, but still. That piece of paper did a lot of unintentional damage. _Natasha’s_ done a lot of damage, unintentional or not. And so has Fury, but then, Fury was never a teammate.”

Clint sighs for what seems like the thousandth time in this conversation. He sees Tony’s point, really— he and Cap could have _both_ tried harder to overcome initial misimpressions, and see under the surface, but... Natasha’s eval didn’t do Tony any favors. Didn’t really do Cap any favors, either. It sowed the dislike and mistrust even deeper in both their hearts, and... well, he and Tony were standing in the wreckage of it all. In the end, he just looks at Tony, measured and slow. “Yeah, she has.”

Tony hums. “I _am_ sorry, you know.”

Clint blinks. “For?”

“She’s your friend.”

Clint is quiet for a long moment. “She was once,” he allows, still wondering how it had been so easy for her to burn him, burn their world to the ground and just _walk away._

But here, sitting on the couch in what used to be the Avengers’ common floor, Clint can’t help but think: in losing everything he knew, he’s found something. He’s found Tony, a man who’s been hurt by the world so thoroughly, he wonders if Tony will ever put his broken pieces back together. He wonders if Tony’s broken edges could match his own. He’s found a connection he didn’t realize he badly needed, and he thinks that maybe Tony’s found something, too. A place to be undone, a place to be accepted for who he is. They’ve found desperately-needed comfort in each other. He wonders if he would ever have seen Tony, this Tony, all vulnerable and raw and open, if he hadn’t lost SHIELD, Natasha, Coulson, Fury.

(He still doesn’t know if Natasha ever truly was, but somehow, he knows unequivocally, that in Tony, he’s found a friend.)

He slides a hand into Tony’s, squeezing once, conveying so many things. It’s gratitude, for telling him such a deeply personal story, it’s sympathy, it’s an apology for— something. For everything. It’s reassurance, and comfort, and solidarity. It’s all the words he can’t say yet, maybe not ever.

And Tony looks like he _gets_ it because he squeezes back and just murmurs softly, “You gonna stay?”

Clint has to take a moment to think about it, because really, he’s always run away— from a shitty home, from the carnie life, from himself. And SHIELD was all about fucking off to foreign lands to solve the world’s problems instead of facing your own. He had figured he’d come back to help however he could, and then just... leave again. But for the first time, he didn’t have a reason to run away, and there was nothing waiting for him, not anymore. Except for Tony, right here. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d come back to Stark tower, but it wasn’t to find... this.  
So for perhaps just the second time in his life, he makes a different call, and this time the person he’ll save is himself.

“For now.” It earns a huge smile from Tony, one far more genuine than his usual smirk.

Because life is not permanent, and Tony gets that too, so he can’t say he’ll stay forever, or always, or whatever. But he can say he’ll stay for now, for as long as he can, for as long as he doesn’t lose this too. The world is hard and unfair and he has literally _just_ lost everything he thought he could count on, but then, he’s only just beginning to realize that SHIELD never owed him anything, that _Natasha_ and _Coulson_ never really owed him anything. Natasha and Coulson never promised to be a sure thing. 

But he knows Tony is, without needing it spelled out for him. So he says he’ll stay, because Tony will. Because he’s finally found a sense of understanding, a place of belonging.

Because maybe they’ve both found exactly what they needed in an unexpected place, and maybe, for once, the world will let them keep it.

**Author's Note:**

> I like feedback.


End file.
